


all the philosophers are down there (and what they need is a union)

by withswords



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (at least i hope lol), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comedy, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Philosophy, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 03:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19286890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withswords/pseuds/withswords
Summary: Crowley has come to the conclusion that god must be evil, but what are they supposed to do about it?





	all the philosophers are down there (and what they need is a union)

**Author's Note:**

> just a very silly idea, and since i'm an idiot i had to write the romantic stuff first. might do more at some point with this because the plot idea is too funny to me.
> 
> (also if you're here from the harry potter fic uhhhhh oops it's not getting updated this month sorry! in my defense, it's pride month and i've been on good omens lockdown since the premiere)

It was the mid-15th century and Aziraphale was having a bit of a go as a monk in a cute little Italian village. Stressful things were coming down the pipe, so he said, and he felt entitled to some time to rest. He lived in a little ‘ascetic cottage’ off the monastery premises, which was gracious of him. That night, they had been availing themselves of the friar’s preference of wine, when Crowley announced that after very much meditation, he had realized that god was evil.

Aziraphale turned to look at him with an expression of slack horror over his glass. “Crowley! You-- well, you can’t be serious!”

Crowley, who had for some time been drinking directly from the bottle regardless of Aziraphale’s occasional tutting and disapproving looks, scowled and took another swig. “Oh, don’t act so scandalized,” he snarled, his voice raggedy with drink. “You’ve thought it too, you’re not an idiot.”

“I--  _no_ ,” he said firmly.

He seemed to threaten to stand up, like he’d walk out of his own home before entertaining this line of conversation. Some bloodyminded instinct in Crowley knew he had to be  _onto something_ , just based on how pale Aziraphale had gotten.

He cleared his throat and tried to sweeten his tone a little. “It’s the only thing that makes sense, angel, think. Human suffering. Animal suffering, for god’s-- for crying out loud. And even if suffering is ‘part of life,’ that ought to be the domain of my side, yeah? But just as often and maybe more, heaven lets all manner of wiles slip past, or worse, encourages the damn things. I mean, what did your lot have to say about the crusades, eh?”

Aziraphale’s cool, neat angelic anger gave way immediately to embarrassment. He thumbed the edge of his smock and muttered, “That’s hardly the point.”

“Isn’t it? Hardly two centuries out and the humans have already figured it was a bloody bad move, haven’t they! But heaven. Oh, heaven spoke into the ears of the popes and kings, and dropped little breadcrumbs of miracle to lead them along in ‘righteous purpose.’ And I know you of all beings didn’t approve of that.”

“It’s ineffability, Crowley,” Aziraphale unconvincingly tried to explain. “Sometimes... the seemingly wrong course of action is, in the grand scheme of things, necessary. The mosquito is a damnable little disease-carrying pest, but other creatures eat them, and yet other creatures eat those, and along this chain we guarantee life for all living things on the planet. So this, in the same way. Humans as a whole must be guided... to the correct course of action as called for by all of the Plans, and so forth, and in the infinite complexity of the universe, a ‘mistake’ by individuals  _must_  be balanced by an advancement to the whole Plan, which is the ultimate good.”

As he spoke, Aziraphale got surer of his own words, comforting himself with them, until at last he could sit back and smile placidly. And if Crowley didn’t love Aziraphale more desperately than words could say and didn’t know that this is what heaven’s sticky little fingers  _did_  to you, he’d have launched himself across the room and strangled that smug look off his face himself. He restrained himself by tipping the bottle back and downing the rest of it in several harried gulps. Aziraphale glanced at his glass and made a noise of disappointment that he’d killed their drink for the night. 

Wiping a thin reddish smear off his upper lip, Crowley rocked forward onto his feet. He gestured widely around himself. “Is the plan all that Good, Aziraphale?”

With patient understanding for his drunkenness, Aziraphale said, “Beg pardon, my dear?”

“The plan,” he repeated with another wave of his arm. He tried again with the correct emphasis. “You know, the Plan. The Divine Plan, the Ineffable Plan. If you wanted to do something Good, why keep it a secret? If we understand good, why make a Good Plan impossible to understand? Why the games? The fucking apples? If the wrong thing can be the right thing sometimes then how can you ever know what the real wrong thing is? Why is it just following orders and standing in line and saying ‘Yes mother!’ is right but pointing out something could be better is wrong?”

“Crowley!” 

He stumbled to a stop only when he physically collided with Aziraphale, who had a worse expression on his face than heavenly self-satisfaction. Did he even know how soft he looked? He took hold of Crowley’s arms and brought them down to his sides. 

“Look at you, all a tizzy. Shh shh shh. Breathe, darling, come on.” He demonstrated with several deep breaths in through the nose and out through the mouth until Crowley relented and copied him. His hands ran soothingly up to Crowley’s shoulders and down again. “If I’d known you would get so upset--”

“I’m not upset.”

“-- I wouldn’t have encouraged you. Nothing good ever comes of talk like this, you know. It's why all the philosophers are down there.”

Crowley licked his dry lips. If Aziraphale hadn’t been holding onto him, he’d be swaying. He thought he might kiss him sooner or later.

“Aziraphale,” he said, “I’m about to do something very bad.”

Aziraphale smiled achingly. “Oh Crowley, you’re a demon.” The emotion of his voice was suppressed to the barest tremor. “Naturally it’ll be bad.”

Crowley had to snort at that. He nodded and pulled away, grabbing his glasses off the ledge he’d tossed them to sometime earlier in the night. “S’pose you’re right. I’m off to sober up, then.”

“Oh. You’re not going to...?”

“Nah.” He slid them on and pressed his fingers into his eyes. Some time alone with god was the last thing he needed right now, but if he asked for anything more he’d never forgive himself.

\-----

400 years later, Crowley had the privilege of seeing Aziraphale look more horrified than he had ever done. As soon as he brought up the idea of unionizing the legions of hell, the bread had fallen right out of Aziraphale’s hand, and a swarm of ducks had descended and carried off their spoils, to be fought over near the water’s edge. At first Crowley thought he was going to get an earful for circling back around to the old debate, and was pleasantly surprised when Aziraphale instead hissed, “They’ll kill you! Are you quite out of your mind?”

“No, look.” He spread his hands out and grinned. “It’s really simple. All I have to do is prove that we’ve all been deceived for 5800 years, and then everything else falls into place, you see? If god is evil, then the only way to defy god is to be good!”

“But why would you want to-- I mean, I understand why  _you_  would want-- but it doesn’t bear thinking about!” Aziraphale bit his knuckle. He made a noise that indicated he was, in fact, thinking about it very hard actually. 

Crowley let out an agonized groan and prepared to whirl off. “You’re right, it’s too sensible, they’ll never go for it.”

“Now, hold on,” Aziraphale said, holding out his hand to keep Crowley’s tantrum from progressing any further. “What was your... plan for it?”

Crowley froze, and knew he had a stupid, wide-open look on his face but was unable to force it away. He led them over to a bench and rattled off everything he’d thought of so far in a low, conspiratorial tone while Aziraphale watched with a gentle intensity. He’d taken a page right out of the humans’ books on this one. There had to be plenty of demons who would be sympathetic to it, especially in the low ranks. It was all about seeding ideas. Priming the poor sods for the pitch that maybe, their eternal lives didn't have to be such a miserable slog. And really, when you put it like that, what did the underclass of hell have to lose? When Aziraphale started adding his own thoughts, it almost took his breath away.

“If you think it might help the cause, I could try to... sneak my way down there.”

Crowley kept it to himself that Aziraphale and all his radiance would have as easy a time sneaking into hell as a camel would sneaking through the eye of a needle. “Your superiors wouldn’t like that very much,” he suggested mildly.

Aziraphale gave a bashful smile. “Well. They can’t possibly oppose something that would prevent evil doings on such a grand scale.”

“They can and they will.”

He put his hands in his lap.

“Then I simply have to trust that the right course of action is the one we are intended to take here. And that perhaps, if it is, everything will work out.”

Crowley laughed, but based on Aziraphale’s expression, he knew it wasn’t at his expense. He daringly moved forward an inch. When Aziraphale didn't shift away, Crowley gave him fair warning.

“I’m going to do something either very bad, or very good.”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s hand touched his cheek as gently and warm as light itself. “It’s you. Of course it’ll be good.”

Forgetting anyone else in the park for the moment, the watching eyes of heaven or hell, Crowley kissed him. He didn’t linger too long. He didn’t dare burden him with anything more.

Aziraphale’s eyes were closed still when he leaned back into his own space. It took him a while to open them, and when he did Crowley swore he could see the flickerings of distant stars in his pupils. They faded in a few blinks. Aziraphale breathlessly put a hand to his chest.

“Good lord,” he wheezed. “I've never been so glad to be right.”


End file.
